Speaking in Tongues
by Jukebox Hound
Summary: [OneShot. Soft 1x2x1.] The kind of light dinner conversation that goes on in the home of two certain Gundam pilots.


**Pairing**: Light 1x2x1  
**Summary**: The kind of light dinner conversation that goes on in the home of two certain Gundam pilots.

These two boys usually end up being my dumping ground for random one-shot ideas. Believe it or not, I started this in an attempt to get into the right frame of mind for writing an essay, because I _really_ didn't want to write it. So I did this instead, and pretty much butchered both Descartes and my meager Latin. Petty vengeance is sweet, but don't take what I say too seriously.

Very brief reference to Gaiman and Pratchett's novel _Good Omens_. Nerd-kudos if you find it.

* * *

**Speaking in Tongues  
**_**Hades Phoenix**_

By the time Duo stumbled through the door, exhausted and covered in grease, Heero was lifting a pot from the stove. He raised an eloquent brow when he saw the messy state Duo was in.

"Dinner will be ready soon," he said calmly, and Duo took a moment to appreciate the sheer irony of having someone like _Heero Yuy_ acting the part of housewife. Then the itchiness of having machine oil in his precious hair roused his practicality, and he shot a half-grin towards the kitchen as he headed for the stairs.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, my braid feels twice as heavy with all this shit in it."

It took a good amount of shampoo and some creative cursing before Duo was able to run his hands through his hair without his fingers coming away blackened, and once he was satisfied that the water no longer ran down the drain tinged with oil, he twisted his hair into a loose tail and slipped into clean clothes with a happy sigh. Playing with big toys at the local mechanic's part-time kept his pilot's heart content, but there was nothing like coming home and washing away the filth of a long day's work.

When he came back down the stairs, the table was already set and the food waiting, covered with hand-towels to keep it warm. Heero was at the sink, cleaning the used dishes with the sort of patience Duo had only ever managed for things like Gundams and blue-eyed Japanese lovers.

His bare feet made just enough noise to be heard so that the other pilot was not startled when thin, colony-pale arms slid around his waist from behind and a kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. Heero gave a small smile, and Duo rested his chin on the shoulder conveniently presented to him under a thin white shirt.

"How was your day?"

Duo allowed the warm fuzziness caused by such simple, homely words to curl his toes before he replied. "Good. I think Jim's finally figured out I actually know what I'm doing and that I won't drive him outta business or something, so he hasn't been hovering so much anymore." Sometimes, it sucked being so experienced in the ways of the world and still not be old enough to legally drink. It made people look at you funny, and it had taken a while for the men down at the mechanic's to realize that for all his pretty face and long hair and youth, Duo was a true grease-monkey and could teach _them_ a thing or two about fixing things.

Heero made a thoughtful sound of understanding as he rinsed the soap from a pan, and the other took the chance to silently admire the hands, capable of bending steel, under the water of the faucet. Heero had nice hands, Duo thought, because while they were calloused, and scarred in a few places, and could clean and reassemble a firearm almost impossibly fast, he had also seen them delicately pull the weeds from around the rosebushes outside, and remove a splinter with a nurse's care from the foot of one of the kids down at the town's center they sometimes volunteered at.

It was also something else to know that the hands that could so easily kill could also move across his skin so gently and reverently, but those were thoughts best saved for later.

"What'd you do?" he mumbled curiously, his words slurred because he refused to lift his chin.

"I spoke with Relena this morning. She seems to be under the impression that we are far too solitary for her tastes, and she wishes to see us."

"Both of us?" Duo asked. He liked Relena well enough, but circumstances had never really let him know her as much more than the girl-that-Heero-tried-to-kill-and-now-protected-with-his-life.

"Of course, Duo. Why wouldn't she?" Heero's brow furrowed slightly, and Duo just shrugged lightly without removing his hold around the other's torso.

"Hey, I'm just saying. Never had much of a chance to get to know her very well, what with the war and then Marimeia's—sorry, the Barton's uprising. Between her being Prime Minister of the Known Universe and our own obligations to Preventers, someone's always busy, y'know?"

"True." There was a note of regret in that one word, and Duo figured that now Heero would make it his personal mission to ensure that the five pilots and one former Queen of the World would remain in close contact, come hell or another revolution. He squeezed his arms a little, affectionately, and when Heero tried to move across the kitchen for a dishtowel, he followed, making them move like an awkward four-legged penguin.

"So, what else?"

"It was a…low-key day." Being Heero, no day was ever unproductive; 'low-key' was about as close to it as Duo had ever heard. He hid a grin, knowing how much being confined to the house drove the other absolutely crazy, but after coming back from their last Preventers' mission successful but with a severe wound to his calf muscle, Heero would rather spend a little time cooling his heels at home than forcing himself into permanent injury and thus early retirement. It was fortunate, then, that they were considered special agents and were only called in for missions that required particularly advanced skill, so not even Heero could complain about missing work.

With the kitchen now clean to his satisfaction, Heero stopped and turned in the circle of Duo's arms, seeking a kiss that was quite happily given. It was soft and light, and Duo hummed blissfully before releasing his hold and taking his seat at the dining table. Heero did the same.

"I read the book Quatre leant to me," he said as he forked salad onto his plate. "It was…thought-provoking."

"Uh-oh," Duo groaned, pretending to swoon with shock in his seat. "Heero, have you been having deep thoughts behind my back? You cad! What have I told you about those dangerous things?"

The corners of Heero's eyes and lips crinkled with soundless laughter. "That they weren't to be brought into the house?"

"Exactly! They track mud and moodiness all over the carpet. That's why I convinced Wufei to get a dark red one in his living room, though with all that deep-thought traffic, he probably should have just gone with black."

Heero shook his head before he could be dragged further into the ridiculousness that often marked Duo's own thoughts. "The book was about the philosophy based upon the idea that, to be certain about one's place in the world, one must doubt everything and reconstruct one's opinion from the ground up."

"What do you mean, doubt everything? Like, that the sweet old lady at the grocery store on the corner is really out to get you or something?"

"No. That nothing—the world, your senses, your own body—truly exists."

Duo blinked. "Well, gee, there's a happy thought to snuggle up to at night. So, did this guy manage it, or did he stop halfway through to commit suicide?"

"I'm…not sure." Heero's head tilted thoughtfully. "I understand his desire to find an absolute truth, but not the way in which he went about it."

"There's no such thing as absolute truth," Duo declared. "Just opinion."

"If there's no such thing as absolute truth, then isn't saying so trying to establish the very thing you're denying?" Heero pointed out.

"Like saying the only constant is change? Okay, fine," Duo said breezily. "So what didn't you agree with? Sounds like something you'd do yourself if you really wanted to."

"The only way he could know he existed was the fact that he could even question it. And this consciousness was given to him by God, who must exist, he thought, because how could an imperfect being imagine a perfect one unless there really is one?"

"…Okay," Duo said slowly, not because he did not understand what Heero was saying, but because God had suddenly been thrown into the conversation. He and God went back a ways, and were not necessarily on the best of terms. "Uh, for being such a sucker for reason, he sure put his logic on the line with something that by nature's supposed to be unknowable. Ineffable and all that omni-whatnot."

Heero made a small sound that Duo interpreted as, _Why yes, Duo, those were my thoughts exactly_. With Duo's reservations and Heero's general ambivalence about it, the two had never really broached the subject of faith; and on one of the few occasions it came up obliquely, Duo had said with a dangerous Shinigami-smile, "Just because God exists doesn't mean I have to believe in the fickle bastard." Heero had tactfully avoided bringing up the topic unless it was necessary, which it never yet had been.

"_Cogito ergo sum_," Duo murmured thoughtfully, suddenly recognizing the philosophy behind the famous phrase. G had mentioned a passing fondness for it. He poked at his herb-chicken with his fork. "_Litus ridiculum est._"

It was Heero's turn to blink at him from across the table. "You speak Latin?"

Duo shrugged a shoulder and gave him a half-grin. "Some. We used to have this old Bible that Father Maxwell used to teach us our letters. God, the thing was so ancient it was practically rags, but he treated it like it was Christ's word itself. Which is pretty much what he believed, I guess, so never mind."

"…Hn."

Duo looked at Heero from under his spiky bangs ruefully. "Ah, sorry buddy, wasn't like I was trying to hide it or anything. Just never came up, and it's been a dead language for millennia anyway. Not much practical use."

Heero shook his head. "No, I'm not angry. Just…surprised, though I'm not sure why. _Gomen_," he added with a touch of humor.

"_Bardum non es_,_ balatro_," Duo grinned.

"_Baka_."

"_Nihil cogitat_."

"_Manuke_."

He could not help it; Duo started laughing. "Man, it's a good thing we can't have kids. They wouldn't know their _sinister_ from _dexter_."

"…That sounded wrong somehow, Duo."

"Naa, G always did say I had a knack for languages. Said that the gift of tongues was a true mark of demonism." He winked a violet eye saucily.

It was true, Heero knew as he took a sip of freshly brewed iced tea, thinking of the sparse lessons in Farsi that Quatre had given to Duo at odd periods of inaction during the Eve Wars. The American had a talent for words and their games, and he suspected it had something to do with the formulaic syntax of language that was so like memorizing basic codes and engineering tables. Shinigami may never lie, but when he could run and hide behind countless half-truths and word-plays, he never needed to.

"The book's author also considered the possibility that everything he knew was simply the deception of a demon," he mused aloud, "though whether this was in conjunction with the idea that he was dreaming or not, he wasn't very clear. I don't think he took it very seriously, either way."

"…Did this guy happen to be manic-depressive, an alcoholic, or thought he saw the image of the Virgin Mary on his toast?"

"He was a former soldier and a widely renowned mathematician and physicist," Heero answered dryly.

"Just checking. Hey, a soldier, huh?" Duo propped his chin on a hand. "Yeah, I guess watching people die all around you can make you question even the most obvious things in life."

The silence that settled over them was not uncomfortable, but a little heavy around the edges.

"For all the atrocities in the war," Heero said finally, "some good has come of it."

"What do you mean?" When Heero made those kinds of statements, there was usually something deeper lurking under the surface. Deep thoughts and their moody, muddy tracks, Duo mentally scowled.

"Marimeia was right, in a sense," Heero said cautiously. He had a tendency to think first and speak later, so that each word came out sounding purposeful and meaning-laden. "I wouldn't pretend to understand why current politics never bother to learn from history's 'waltz', or to question why a seemingly omni-benevolent God would allow a world in which children became soldiers. Nor would I try to trivialize the trauma of others." He set down his fork contemplatively, gaze moving to take in their simple, comfortable little home. "But…for myself, at least, I feel I lost some things, but gained even more, because of the war." Then he looked at Duo, sometimes called Maxwell's Demon; and the icy hardness that had been in his eyes, hiding his doubt and insecurity just a few years ago, was now a calm sort of serenity.

"_Miles mortum pugnasavit, tunc vivere cognovit,_" Duo said softly.

* * *

The Latin; "_I think, therefore, I am_"; "_The argument is ridiculous_"; "_You aren't stupid, fool_" (or, as I thought of it, "_Don't be stupid, stupid_"); "_You think nothing_"; "_left_" and "_right_." Finally, "_The soldier fought death, then learned to live_." Please keep in mind that I've most likely conjugated my verbs and adjectives incorrectly, but it's the thought that counts. 


End file.
